


A Crisis of Vanity

by thymelord



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: A Tiny Rift Remained In Bad Wolf Bay And The Doctor Decided It Was Safe To Leave It Unclosed, Biting, M/M, POV Third Person, Post S4, Referenced Rose/Ten/Metacrisis, Rough Sex, Selfcest, Tencest, That's My Story and I'm Sticking to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 04:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15331695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thymelord/pseuds/thymelord
Summary: This was not the plan.This really,reallywas not the plan. In fact, The Doctor could not emphasise enough how very much Not The Plan this was.And yet it was happening, all the same.





	A Crisis of Vanity

**Author's Note:**

> It is five AM, I haven’t slept at all, and I am writing Tencest. Do you ever look at your life choices and wonder how exactly you got to this moment? Because same.

The Metacrisis Doctor tilted his head to stare at his counterpart.

“Two Doctors,” he murmured.

“Ah, good! I see you’ve retained my genius and deduction skills,” said The Doctor dryly.

“But you know what that means, don’t you? _Two. Doctors.”_ Metacrisis’ eyes were shining with something The Doctor couldn’t quite name.

Or rather, he _could_ name it, of course he did, they were the same people after all – but he didn’t _want_ to.

“Twice the amount of genius? Twice the amount of… Doctor?”

Metacrisis took a step forward. “You must admit you’ve always wondered what it would be like. And _don’t_ lie. I’m you, remember?” He gave him a devilish grin, and The Doctor swallowed.

“I really… I really don’t know what you’re talking about. Has the human side of your brain overtaken you and made you a complete idiot?”

“That’s the thing about humans,” mused Metacrisis, continuing to move forward. “Infinite idiocy but also… infinite _imagination.”_

The Doctor really should have known what Metacrisis was about to do. Perhaps he did, and he didn’t want to stop it. Perhaps he refused to believe it until it actually happened.

He was rough where The Doctor would have been gentle, but that was hardly surprising; Metacrisis was a creature of fire and rage and passion and –

Oh. Hardness, it seems.

Metacrisis shoved The Doctor backwards, the small of his back hitting the TARDIS console. He hoped to God he wouldn’t accidentally set something off and end up in the middle of the assembled hordes of Genghis Khan. It would hardly be the first time, after all.

Metacrisis’ lips crashed against The Doctor’s, and The Doctor couldn’t help but respond, as though it were an automatic response.

He tore his lips away from Metacrisis in shock. He swallowed, then managed to say in a somewhat croakier voice than usual, “Was Captain Jack Harkness near you when you were created, by any chance?”

Metacrisis laughed lowly. “Oh no, Doctor, this is all you.  All _us.”_ Metacrisis’ knee gently pushed against The Doctor’s groin, who bit back a groan. “Who would have thought that the famous _Doctor_ would be such a wanton slut? And for yourself, no less?”

“You’re not me,” said The Doctor through gritted teeth.

“No, I suppose we are discrete entities, aren’t we? Still, I think we’re close enough to each other to be able to say ‘we are the same people’ in an idiomatic fashion, don’t you think?”

“God, don’t you ever shut up?”

“Make me,” challenged Metacrisis, eyes glittering.

And this time it was The Doctor who surged forward, overcome with the same primordial urge that had possessed him earlier, his animal instinct coming to the surface as it never had in centuries. As much as they pretended otherwise, Time Lords were as susceptible to their base instincts as any species – perhaps more so after tamping them down for so long, like trying to seal off an active volcano. It could only hold for so long, before…

Exploding.

When the tip of Metacrisis’ tongue flicked inside The Doctor’s mouth, he suddenly forgot the whole _wrongness_ of it all, and let himself get lost in the kiss.

“You know,” panted The Doctor, momentarily breaking away, “this position isn’t exactly comfortable.”

Metacrisis smiled. “Then let’s make our way to the bedroom. It’s… this way, I believe?”

~

Metacrisis wasted absolutely no time in throwing The Doctor onto the bed. The great, silk-gauded bed with a golden headboard looked like it had come straight from the Palace of Versailles – and, in fact, The Doctor wouldn’t be surprised if it had – wasn’t exactly his taste, but he’d never been arsed to redecorate. Now, he was glad for its size.

Somewhere on the trip from the main room to the bed, both of their jackets had disappeared, and Metacrisis was attempting to divest The Doctor from the rest of his clothing as quickly as possible.

“Fuck, you don’t waste any time, do you?”

“ _Some_ of us don’t have the benefit of a Time Lord lifespan,” said Metacrisis primly, and an entirely surprising jolt of sadness went through The Doctor’s hearts.

“Let’s… not talk about that.”

“You’re right,” said Metacrisis, ripping The Doctor’s shirt from him and dropping it to the floor. “This is a night for pleasure, not sorrow.” He dipped his head, lips skimming down The Doctor’s chest, tongue toying with his nipple. The Doctor gasped, his back arching.

There was a wicked look in Metacrisis’ eyes. “One excellent perk of fucking your duplicate is…” His hand caressed a certain spot on The Doctor’s inner thigh, who let out another gasp, the bulge in his trousers growing impossibly larger. “…you know _exactly_ how to make them squirm.” He took off The Doctor’s trousers and underwear in one swift motion, running an appreciative eye over the hard cock now lying almost flat against The Doctor’s stomach.

“You know, I think this is the biggest out of all our regenerations,” Metacrisis said thoughtfully. Then he bent down, running his tongue across The Doctor’s length.

A low growl came from the back of The Doctor’s throat, and he hauled Metacrisis upwards before rolling over, pinning him to the mattress. “And I know how to make _you_ squirm, duplicate.” He bit down on the side of Metacrisis’ neck hard enough to draw blood, and Metacrisis cried out, hands scrabbling to claw at The Doctor’s back.

“Fuck,” he exclaimed, voice almost a sob, “ _fuck.”_

“So,” The Doctor murmured in his ear, “who is going to fuck who?”

“Fuck me,” gasped Metacrisis, “please, fuck me.”

“Are you sure?” The corners of The Doctor’s mouth quirked upwards. “You _are_ a virgin, after all.”

Metacrisis’ mouth moved into a matching smirk. “I dare say… since our bodies were replicated almost exactly, except from the Time Lord parts… I may not have a virgin’s arse.” He reached over to the bedside table, pulling out a jar of oil and throwing it to The Doctor, who caught it effortlessly. “Care to test out the theory, _Doctor?”_

The Doctor hummed thoughtfully, unscrewing the cap and pouring oil over his fingers. “I never could resist the chance to test out a theory.”

“And it seems that _you_ don’t waste time in getting down to business either, do you?”

“Well, you know what they say. Like original, like duplicate. Now hush. You talk too much.” His finger ran around the rim of Metacrisis’ fundament, and he let out a whimper.

“Gods, do I really make noises like that?” His finger slipped inside, and Metacrisis whimpered again.

“Just do it,” sobbed Metacrisis, “please, I can’t – I can’t wait –“

“Now who’s the wanton slut?” purred The Doctor, oil-slicked hands quickly running over his shaft before pushing into him.

He’d never admit it to anyone in a million years, but seeing that face – _his own face –_ contorted in paroxysms of pleasure, was like nothing he’d ever seen before, and he wanted to look at it for eternity.

With one particularly vicious thrust of his hips, The Doctor appeared to find Metacrisis’ prostate, whose moans reached a scream, nails digging raw red crescent moons into The Doctor’s back.

“Go on,” gasped The Doctor, “scream for me.” His hips snapped forward, and Metacrisis yelled “ _Doctor!”_ before releasing over their stomachs.

“Coming with your cock untouched,” said The Doctor, running his fingertips through the mess on his torso and lifting them up to Metacrisis’ mouth, who sucked on them greedily. That sight was what finally undid The Doctor, and with a shout, he came.

He slumped next to Metacrisis on the mattress, arm curling around his waist. Metacrisis turned his head, kissing him softly.

“Are we both terribly vain?” said Metacrisis, with a smile.

“Not as vain as The Master. He turned the entire human race into himself.” Noticing Metacrisis’ look, The Doctor added, “Don’t worry, I restored them again. Actually, that wasn’t me, that was Rassilon.”

“Ra- _Rassilon?”_

“I see we have a lot of catching up to do,” said The Doctor. “Now tell me, how is Rose?”

“She’s fine. Very fine. She’ll be _better_ than fine when we tell her all about this.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [tumblr!](https://thymelord.tumblr.com)


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